


Bound

by MK_Yujji



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MK_Yujji/pseuds/MK_Yujji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison's death has hit everybody hard, but Lydia knows it's not just a manifestation of her grief when she starts seeing her ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Allydia Reverse Bang on tumblr. 
> 
> My artist mithborien made the most amazing fanvid - Ghost (I will link it in once I find the link to the video again) - and I absolutely love it. I hope I did it justice, but I'm not sure anyone really could have. 
> 
> Rough and rushed beta job, so any mistakes that slipped past us, please point them out! <3

There’s a limit to how much craziness one person can deal with and Lydia Martin is pretty sure that she reached hers at least a semester ago. Possibly two.

“No.” She points a finger at the shade staring at her sheepishly and waggles it back and forth. “Absolutely not. I refuse to be haunted.”

Though the ghost doesn’t make actual sound, she does clasp her hands together under her chin and mouth ‘sorry’.

Resolutely, Lydia closes her eyes and counts to ten. Then another ten just to be sure.

When she opens them again, a hazy, sort of see-through Allison Argent is still standing in front of her.

“Why me?” Lydia asks, looking for divine inspiration to show up and explain why she got stuck with the crazy power. “All I wanted out of life was to be normal and have the hottest boyfriend and the highest GPA and a free ride to MIT. Why is that too much to ask for?”

Divine inspiration fails to answer her, but a familiar voice _does_.

“Most people try to keep their requests somewhere around surviving high school at all, but hey, it’s good to have goals, I guess. Also, talking to yourself is never a good sign. Just in case you were curious.” 

She glances down to see Stiles walking up to her. For once, Scott isn’t hovering nearby. In fact, the hallway has mostly cleared out and she and Stiles seem to be the only two still hanging around.

Lydia sighs and waves a hand at Allison. “Can you see her?”

Though he arches a brow at her, he glances to where she’s gesturing. Then he looks back at her with a frown. “Nope. Who’s ‘her’?”

“Allison.”

That makes the air of faint amusement vanish fast. It’s been a month since Allison died. A month since the nogitsune was defeated.

They’re all still trying to find a new normal in the wake of all the darkness and death that had threatened to destroy them all and they’ve only had limited success. Stiles has probably had less success than anyone else. The guilt still eats at him and nothing anyone else has said has made any difference. 

“Right. Of course it is,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair and heaving an aggravated sigh. “You're a banshee. I thought the only dead people you saw were the recently deceased corpses, not the spirits hanging around after. Are you sure it’s not just like… a hallucination or something?”

She scowls at him. “It’s not like anyone handed me a Banshees for Dummies, but in general, hallucinations are more solid. She’s hazy.”

“Does she know why she’s here? Now?”

Apparently Allison can hear them both even though Stiles can’t see or hear her. She shakes her head and shrugs. “Apparently not.”

He nods like he expected that. He might have. No one has done more research into the supernatural world than Stiles. He stares at the floor for a second, his expression contemplative. “It can’t be too surprising. All the literature agrees that ghosts happen when their death was either traumatic or when they have unfinished business.” He shrugs and looks up, frowning at them. “Does she seem violent or .. Um… vengeful?”

There’s a tone in his voice, like he thinks Allison is there for him and that he deserves whatever punishment she’s returned to mete out. Lydia doesn’t like it. Neither does Allison. 

The ghost reaches out a hand, hovering sadly near him. She glances up at Lydia, beseeching. 

“She doesn’t blame you, Stiles. So stop with the pity party and help me figure this out.”

The look Allison levels at her is exasperated and scolding, but really. It’s the best way to deal with Stiles when he’s like this. Pandering to his guilt or trying to tip-toe around it is only going to make it worse.

Stiles is always at his best when he’s trying to work out someone else’s problems.

He takes a deep breath and nods. He starts pacing, hands already moving as he tries to sort his thoughts.

“Right, so she doesn’t know why she’s here, but she seems aware-“ he breaks off and pauses long enough to glance back up at Lydia for confirmation and goes back to pacing once he has it. “Definitely a ghost and not a hallucination. You’re a banshee, so it’s not _that_ weird that you’re seeing ghosts. It’s just… why _this_ ghost. You haven’t seen any other ghosts. Except…”

He trails off and their eyes meet. 

“Peter.”

~*~*~

"Well then, it sounds like you have a problem," Peter says disinterestedly. "I'm not sure why you're telling _me_ , though. Bringing back dead Argents isn't exactly a hobby of mine."

Lydia snaps her fingers and points at him. The thing about Peter is that there’s more information in how he says things and what he doesn’t say than there is in what he actually says. “But it is possible.”

"Anything's possible if you work hard and have obscene amounts of money. Isn't that what they're teaching you in school these days?" Peter smirks.

Stiles steps around Lydia to glare down at Peter, where he's sprawled out on the couch in Derek's loft like he owns the place.

"Right," he says flatly, "because you couldn't possibly know anything about coming back from the dead."

Peter raises an eyebrow. "Well I didn't do it by leashing myself to a magical tree, if that's what you're asking."

"You... Did you actually make a dog joke? About yourself?" Stiles snorts in amused disbelief; Peter just rolls his eyes.

“Could we please focus on the actual issue here?” Lydia can feel a headache coming on, just being in the same room as these two. 

"Fine. Seriously, Peter, can you maybe not be a dick about this and help us? Keep pretending to be bored if it helps you sleep at night, we both know you're way more curious than you want to be."

"Oh really?" Peter says, the beginnings of an actual smile threatening to take over as he eyes Stiles. "Have you been paying that much attention to me?"

Stiles sputters, glare increasing.

“Can I get you two anything? A ruler? A condom?” She holds the sickly sweet expression for a minute before rolling her eyes, ignoring Stiles' flailing squawk and the way Allison looks like she wants to bash the mental image right out of her head. “Seriously, flirt on your own time. This is _my_ time. We’re going to solve _my_ problem right now.”

Turning his attention back to Lydia, Peter leans forward, elbows on his knees and head tilted in a mockery of sincerity.

"Come now, Lydia, all of these questions and you've forgotten the most important one of all." His gaze sharpens. "What's in it for me?"

She pretends to think about it, tapping her finger against her chin before giving him an innocent look. “I could promise not to make anymore molotov cocktails with your name on them.”

"All this time working together and I'd have thought we'd moved past threats of projectile explosives," he replies with grin, sharp human teeth white in his smug face. "How about a favor? An IOU, shall we say, for some unspecified later date?"

Peter pauses for a moment, but he continues before Lydia can offer an immediate protest.

"From Stiles."

Stiles whirls on Lydia, eyes wide and beseeching. "No, Lyds, please, you are not pimping me out to the resident zombiewolf, nuh uh--"

That… could work. Lydia’s eyes narrow as she considers the possibilities. That could definitely work. “Nothing that he finds immoral and nothing that can be used against our immediate circle of friends. Including your nephew.”

"What the fuck? Standing right here! Don't I get a say in this?!"

Lydia and Peter look at him in unison. "No."

"I hate you both," Stiles says petulantly, throwing his hands in the air before dramatically flopping down on the couch as far away from Peter as he can get.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. Honestly, it’s not like she’s letting Peter just take whatever he wants without any kind of constraints. Turning her attention to the wolf, she rolls her wrist. “Well? He owes you a favor. Now help us.”

Though he looks like he’d rather keep messing with Stiles, Peter sighs and turns back to her. “The three of you tied yourself to the nemeton in a way that hasn’t been done since the days when the druids were actually prosperous. It’s really not that surprising that Allison can’t pass on.”

“Does that mean she’s resurrectable or not?” 

“Well, the ritual I used tied my… well, for lack of a better term, my soul to you and then used my pack bond to my alpha and a little Worm Moon magic to jumpstart my body’s healing processes and keep a circuit open that I could follow back to it. Allison doesn’t have werewolf healing, an alpha or a pack bond and the next worm moon is months away.” He purses his lips and raises a brow, tilting his head back and forth in contemplation. Or maybe he’s just messing with them. It’s hard to tell since Lydia has never learned to read psychopath. “On the other hand, she _does_ share a tie to the nemeton with a True Alpha and a… well. Whatever Stiles is today.”

Allison looks like she wishes she had her shock-baton. Stiles surges off the couch and steps forward at that and the expression on his face is far too similar to the nogitsune’s for Lydia’s comfort. She presses a hand to his chest before he can pass her, silently asking him to control himself no matter how aggravating Peter gets. “So you think it will work? A simple yes or no will suffice.”

“Yes. I think the odds are good.” Peter rolls his eyes. “You’ll need to modify the ritual so that it suits your purpose and you’ll need her body. Tonight's full moon is a Blood Moon. That should suit your purposes well enough. And you’ll need to convince Scott that a little blood sacrifice is good for the soul.”

So nothing hard at all.

~*~*~

“Grief manifests in different ways for different people and that’s okay,” Scott says, giving them sad puppy eyes after they’ve explained what they intend to try and what they need from him. He sounds like he’s quoting someone else.

She’s proven right when he stands up to retrieve a handful of pamphlets from his desk.

Stiles just sighs and rolls his eyes. He’s had more time than anyone to get used to the earnest way that Scott completely ignores what they’re actually saying in an effort to help them with what he _thinks_ they mean, she supposes.

It does make her wonder how often pamphlets have played a prominent role in their education and discipline. 

“No. Listen, Scott. This is… this isn’t a manifestation of Lydia’s grief. We’ve researched and talked to... Sources.” Interesting that he refuses to name Peter as his source. Probably he knows Scott won’t take that well. "This is a real thing. We can bring her back."

“Stiles, this is-“ 

“It’s not _crazy_ ,” Stiles breaks in, throwing his hands up and making a face. “Look, we’re not asking you to do anything horrible here, Scott.”

“You mean besides digging up my ex-girlfriend’s _body_?”

“No, we’re going to ask Isaac to do that part. We’re just asking you to come be an anchor and loan us some True Alpha blood, easy peasy.”

“Oh, is that all?” Scott replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. After a moment he seems to collapse in on himself. Lydia can see that he wants to believe them, he just can’t quite bring himself to hope. “I think that grave robbery and blood sacrifices are going a bit far for what’s probably a perfectly understandable manifestation of how messed up everything in our lives is right now. No offense, Lydia.”

She shrugs and looks at her nails. “None taken.”

It’s not like she doesn’t know how this looks from the outside. 

“It worked for Peter.”

“Who is a werewolf.”

“And Allison is tied to the Nemeton,” Stiles argues, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You know? That ugly ass stump of a tree that kept Jennifer alive? It’s humming with power now, Scott. I know you can feel it too.”

That’s news to Lydia and she glances between them. They don’t elaborate though and she makes a mental note to ask about it again later. 

One problem at a time, she thinks.

“Look, I want her back as much as anyone else does, but you have to see you’re grasping at straws here, man.”

Stiles plucks one of the pamphlets out of Scott’s hands, scanning it before smacking it back against the alpha’s chest. “Look at it this way, Scotty boy. Grief manifests in different ways for different people and that’s okay. Apparently you’re supposed to help us deal with that instead of passing judgement.”

“My mom is going to be so pissed,” Scott mutters, giving in to the inevitable.

~*~*~

“You’re all crazy,” Isaac says flatly when they finally track him down at the abandoned station where he and Derek’s other betas had once trained. He’s sprawled out on a torn leather passenger seat trying not to actually look at any of them.

Stiles just rolls his eyes. “More than likely, yes, but can you _do_ it?”

Huffing, Isaac wraps long arms around equally long legs. It’s strange and possibly physics-defying how small he can make himself. It reminds Lydia sharply of his past and how much practice he’s had at taking life’s punches. There's no way he's going to let himself hope. Not without something more concrete than Stiles being pushy.

She sits down next to him and reaches out a hesitant hand. This could be the wrong move. She knows that he asked her out once, that she rejected him out of turn - though really, she’d dated Jackson from the sixth grade until he moved to London so she isn’t really sure why anyone expected that to change - and there was a time when he definitely held a grudge about it. “Please, Isaac. We need your help. _Allison_ needs your help.”

Behind her, she can hear Scott shifting uncomfortably, but he doesn't say anything to sway Isaac one way or the other. 

He stares at her hand for a long moment before dropping his head down against his knees. “You guys do realize that my dad is dead and I don’t actually work in the cemetery anymore, right?”

“Yes, but I also know that you still have keys to the place,” Stiles says, his smirk more proud than amused. It doesn't surprise Lydia in the least that a little misdemeanor like stolen keys meets with his approval. “And, oddly enough, I have the Sheriff on speed dial and the ability to talk your average citizen into submission.”

~*~*~

Whoever the new caretaker at the Beacon Hills cemetery is, he’s a lot more lax than they were anticipating.

Isaac doesn’t even need his keys to get them into the equipment and there’s no security to speak of so there's no cause to subject them to Stiles. They leave Scott at the perimeter keeping watch. He still isn’t sure that he wants to be a part of any of it and Stiles is willing to leave him out of as much as possible as long as he continues to humor them.

“Is she here?” Isaac asks before he breaks ground over the grave. Stiles and Lydia share a look but before they can voice a question about his easy acceptance of the possibility, he shrugs. “I’ve been a gravedigger since I was fourteen. You see things.”

“Ah…” Lydia glances around, but Allison has been absent since they talked to Peter. Shaking her head, Lydia blows on her hands. It’s cold and she left her gloves at home. Somehow, grave robbing hadn’t come up on her planned agenda for the night. “No. I think it takes a lot of energy for her to project herself.”

Privately she thinks it may also have something to do with the way both Scott and Isaac respond to grief and what they each meant to Allison, but she isn’t about to say that out loud. She may not always choose to exercise it, but she does have tact.

Either way, her answer seems to satisfy Isaac. He stops stalling and concentrates on the task at hand. It’s boring and tedious and dirty, but it doesn’t actually take him all that long to get it done.

They help Isaac with the last bit and call Scott back over to help them get the coffin out of the hole. Two werewolves manage it a lot easier than one and a pair of humans would have. 

Stiles argues against the conspicuousness of hauling an entire coffin across town, but no one else wants to see the decomposing corpse of their friend until they absolutely have to.

And though she’d never have guessed it before, apparently even Stiles knows how to recognize a lost cause.

~*~

When Lydia was a small child, her father used to tell her stories about goblins and ghouls and all the scary things that came out to murder bad children on those nights when the moon turned blood red. Her mother had been infuriated when she'd found out, but the damage had been done.

It had taken years of therapy and a lot of research before she'd ever felt safe again. 

Peter Hale had undermined that when he'd burst into her life in a flurry of teeth and nightmares, but she's worked past it and damned if she's going to let his appearance at the nemeton under the full blood moon bring it all back again.

Smirking at them, he holds out a rolled up piece of paper. "I wasn't sure if you would have the time to work out the necessary changes, so I thought, why not? Could be worth the entertainment value."

Behind her, Lydia can hear Scott hissing at Stiles 'this is your source?' and Stiles' equally annoyed response but she ignores their byplay. Isaac will keep them from getting too carried away. Probably. 

She stalks right up to Peter and snatches the paper. A quick scan makes her frown and glance up at him suspiciously. "This is all we have to do? No wolfsbane punch? No dancing around the tree like idiots?"

His huff of amusement and the way he rolls his eyes, make her want to scratch his face. "Real magic isn't like TV, Miss Martin. Given what I've been led to believe regarding your intelligence, I'd have expected you to be able to work that out on your own."

Stiles finally breaks away from his argument with Scott to come over and take the paper from her. She lets it go without protest because Allison chooses that moment to pop into existence between them. 

It startles Lydia. 

She presses a hand against her chest, hating that the werewolves can all hear the way her heart is jackrabbiting. "Don't do that!"

Allison looks apologetic, but Lydia just waves it away. It's not really her fault.

Beside her, Stiles is making unhappy noises. Apparently he's seen the part where he has to sacrifice blood, too.

It's the first part, though, the part where Allison has to be stretched out on the nemeton that's really making her uncomfortable. She clears her throat. "So. We need to place her body on the center of the nemeton."

The four teens hover for a long moment, staring at each other in silent question. No one wants to be the one to open the casket. 

"I'll do it," Peter offers, clearly amused at their reticence. He holds his hands up in mocking surrender when the teen werewolves growl in angry response to the idea of him touching Allison's body. "Or not."

Stiles sighs and rolls his eyes. "This is stupid. I'll do it."

It still takes him a few deep breaths to actually move forward and tug the casket open. Lydia is tired of seeing the bodies of her friends and she really doesn't think she can handle this part. She shuts her eyes tight and waits for them to get Allison's corpse settled on the nemeton.

"Okay, now I'm officially creeped out."

"You weren't before?" Isaac asks, voice curious.

Scott is the one that answers him. "Stiles is pretty much inured to creepy things as long as there isn't a lot of blood. That really doesn't look right, though."

There’s a sound like flesh flopping against flesh and Lydia can't help but look.

Allison looks like she's asleep. Stiles is holding up one of her arms and even as Lydia watches, he drops it again. Lydia hasn't made an extensive study on the issue, but she's pretty sure that limbs on dead bodies aren't supposed to be that pliable.

She also finds it difficult to believe that there wouldn't be _some_ evidence of decomposition. 

Stiles frowns and pokes at the pristine skin. "She's not...warm exactly but she's definitely not what I'd call cold as death either."

"How peculiar, " Peter comments, sounding far too delighted by the discovery.

"Oh my god!" There's a panicked note in Scott's voice and he looks horrified. "Did we bury her alive?"

He drops to his knees and reaches for Allison's wrist, presumably to check for a pulse.

Though Stiles rolls his eyes, he chooses not to point out that the werewolves would have heard the sound of her heartbeat long before now if there was one to hear. Everyone else follows his example although Peter looks like he's considering saying something anyways. 

"Pretty sure your mom or my dad would have caught that, Scott."

That reassurance is enough to kickstart the alpha’s brain back into gear. He takes a deep breath and nodded. "You’re right. I know you're right. " 

Whatever doubts he'd had about what they were doing seem to have vanished. He lifts Allison out of the casket far more gently than Stiles would have and lays her on the flat surface of the nemeton. 

He brushes her hair out of her face, a soft look in his eyes before standing back with a determined nod. "Ok. What do we need to do now?"

Lydia glances back at the paper. Peter's instructions seem easy enough. Too easy really and that makes her suspicious. She's not sure they have any choice but to follow them, though. 

Research is something she and Stiles both excell at, but it could take days to find answers of their own and then the Blood Moon will be gone. he doesn't think Allison has the kind of time it'd take to wait for another. Not if they want this to be successful. 

"Basically, you as a true alpha and one of the three who are bound to the nemeton offers a blood sacrifice under the full blood moon, which gives it the power to help us. Which makes sense." She taps her lips with one finger as she considers the rest. "I'm not sure why Stiles has to give blood, though."

"To complete the circuit between the three, of course," Peter replies at her arched brow. "If she were a wolf you could trust her ability to follow her bond back to her alpha. She's not, so you have to improvise."

She and Stiles share a look. He grimaces, but neither of them can deny that there's sense in it. 

“All right then,” Lydia says, making her voice brisk and business-like. “Four corners - yes, I know it’s round but you know what I mean - Scott and Stiles on opposite sides facing each other. Hmm… It’s probably easiest if Scott cuts the meat of Stiles’ hand. Effective, but it won’t accidentally kill him if we can’t tend to it immediately. Make sure all the blood hits the nemeton, don’t lose it on the ground.”

Stiles closes his eyes and looks away, hissing slightly when Scott’s claws cut through his hand, but neither complain. They both take their spots.

“Okay, then. Scott, same for you.” She frowns at how quickly it heals. Maybe she should have brought some wolfsbane after all. “Can you slow your own healing?”

He's done it before, but that had been guilt induced and she isn’t sure if he can replicate it on demand or not. He nods, though, and his eyes flare red as he slashes his own hand again.

Thunder sounds around them and Lyda glances up to see the sky filling with clouds too rapidly for it to be natural. A gentle rain begins to fall and she can see the way the blood seems to be soaking into the tree stump.

Hopefully that means it’s working.

Part of her wonders if they shouldn’t be up on the nemeton with Allison holding hands. It just seems ... appropriate. Standing so far away from each other feels like the wrong move.

She hesitates for another moment, looking back at Peter. There’s something in his expression that chills her. He’s staring at the blood with a greedy, gleeful look. 

This is a man who does nothing without purpose. She’s always known that.

She doubts he actually cares if they’re successful or not. At least… she doubts he cares if they’re succesful in saving _Allison_.

“Change of plans,” she announces, decision made. Peter smirks and dips his head in at her, but makes not move to protest or contradict her decision. “Up on the stump. We need to be close enough to hold hands.”

“Guess we get to be blood brothers after all,” Stiles says, managing a faint smirk at Scott as he scrambles up awkwardly to kneel on Allison’s right side.

The rain is falling harder now and the only part of the sky that isn’t covered in clouds is the moon. It shines bright red right above them.

Scott is smiling from Allison’s left and he reaches out to clasp Stiles’ hand over her body for a moment. “We were always brothers. You were just too squeamish to seal the deal.”

It’s Isaac that seems truly awkward as he tries to figure out where to kneel so that he can still reach their hands but isn’t essentially straddling the body. Beside him, Allison’s ghost his hiding a smile behind her hand. 

She looks up and catches Lydia’s eye, gesturing to the situation.

Lydia rolls her eyes as she kneels just above Allison’s head.. “Isaac, just do it. We have to be holding hands or this isn’t going to work.”

By now the blood is everywhere and there’s a familiar whisper in Lydia’s ear. There’s so much death surrounding the nemeton. More than just Paige or Jennifer. 

It’s more than Lydia wants to know so she does her best to ignore it. Allison is their priority.

As Isaac finally settles and clasps hands with Scott and Stiles, a loud crack of thunder rolls out of the sky and a brilliant flash of lightening lands somewhere nearby. 

“Ignore it!” Lydia calls out over the driving rain as she reaches out and completes the circuit.

It’s like something electric pours through her body and she can’t help it. She throws her head back and wails.

The mighty rumble of a True Alpha joins her own cry followed by the desperately lonely call of the last Beta.

The storm around them rages, the rain almost torrential and the wind a driving force, but their grips only tighten on one another.

A fourth cry joins the other three, but Lydia isn’t sure what the sound is and she isn’t about to look over and see if Stiles is crackling with the nogitsune’s power. 

She can feel the way everything builds up and knows that it’s reaching the tipping point.

Lightening flashes down, close enough to be right on top of them and everything goes dark.

~*~*~

When Lydia comes to, she’s back on the ground and there’s a warm body half on top of her.

“You did it,” a familiar voice whispers in her ear. “Thank you, Lydia.”

Lydia just manages to open her eyes and share a smile with Allison before there’s a giant whoop and Scott is scooping the archer up and twirling her around. “You’re alive!”

“Holy shit,” Isaac breaths from the side, watching wide eyed as Allison and Scott laugh and jump around. The desire to join them is easy to read and when they reach out, he doesn't even pause, just joins the celebratory dancing.

Letting her head flop back down into the mud, Lydia makes a face. It’s going to take forever to get her hair clean.

Then a still figure catches her eye and she shifts up onto her elbows so that she can see what Stiles is staring at.

There in the center of the nemeton’s broken stump is a new sapling and on the other side, Peter is staring with a smug, pleased grin.

That look says that getting Allison back is going to come with a price a lot steeper than Stiles owing a favor.

Before she can get too lost in that depressing thought, Scott and Allison are pulling her up. 

She smiles and wraps her arms around the friend that she’s missed more than she’d ever imagined it possible to miss someone.

This is worth it, she thinks, holding tight and laughing when a protesting Stiles gets dragged into the group hug.

This will always be worth it.

 

_fin_


End file.
